


Upstage

by combaferre



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kinda, M/M, Slow Burn, Theatre, but it wouldnt be a deh fic without, eyy it's a high school play au, it won't be too much though, not really - Freeform, rated t for language other than that it's fine, there are already a few of these but here's another one i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combaferre/pseuds/combaferre
Summary: “You're kidding me, right? You're kidding me.”Connor stared at the paper tacked onto the bulletin board in disbelief. There was his name, printed proudly in only the best Helvetica. Great! The role of Sebastian was important but not too focused on, which he appreciated. Him getting casted wasn't the source of his dismay, however.He closed his eyes and thought back to his choices that had led him to this regretful, regretful moment.(in which connor just wants to do the play, but there are some challenges he has to face. one of which may or may not be the cute boy in charge of lighting.)





	1. casted

**Author's Note:**

> High School Theatre au. I don't have much experience in high school theatre, but the idea wouldn't leave my head. Enjoy I guess!

 

“You're kidding me, right? You're kidding me.”

 

Connor stared at the paper tacked onto the bulletin board in disbelief. There was his name, printed proudly in only the best Helvetica. Great! The role of Sebastian was important but not too focused on, which he appreciated. Him getting casted wasn't the source of his dismay, however.

 

He closed his eyes and thought back to his choices that had led him to this regretful, regretful moment.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, doofus. Check this out.”

 

Connor was about to tell Zoe that absolutely no one said ‘doofus’ anymore, but he was stopped by a paper airplane flying into his forehead and narrowly missing an eye. He unfolded it and scanned it quickly.

 

AUDITIONS FOR _TWELFTH NIGHT_ FROM OCTOBER 30 - NOVEMBER 1

AUDITIONS WILL BE HELD IN THE AUDITORIUM AT LUNCH

COMPLETE FORM AND HAND IN TO MR. IVERSON BY OCTOBER 18

 

“Cool. _Twelfth Night_ is commonly overlooked. Hope you get the part. Bye?”

 

Zoe rolled her eyes. “That’s not why I’m here. I think that you should audition.”

 

He raised his eyebrows. “Me? Why? Besides, I have other things to do. You know, homework and stuff.”

 

Both of them chuckled. As if. Zoe shook her head and nodded towards the paper. “That’s the thing. You’re always bitching about having nothing to do, so rehearsals will definitely take up time. Besides, it’ll be great to have my baby brother supporting me as an ensemble member while I rock the stage as Viola.”

 

Connor held up a hand as a sign to stop her. “Okay, I’m going to address everything you just said in four points. One, when I was complaining about doing nothing, play rehearsal with the dumbasses from our school wasn’t the remedy I had in mind. Two, what makes you think I’ll get casted? Three, I am almost an entire year older than you. And four, absolutely no one says ‘rock the stage.’ No one.”

 

Zoe nodded thoughtfully for a moment before replying, “One, rehearsal isn’t bad. All you have to do is just say your lines and run through the blocking. Socializing is completely optional. Two, are you kidding?” She paused to give him a Look. And okay, Connor sort of got it.

 

When they were younger, Connor and Zoe had been close. They had also been complete theatre nerds. Of course, this resulted in shows they would put on together, sometimes for their mom and her friends (Larry was busy and found Connor’s interest in theatre rather than baseball mildly disturbing), but mostly for themselves. Shows ranging from the Mercutio and Tybalt fighting scene to _Les Mis: Live in Concert_ were always running at the 17 Greenbrook Road Theatre. As Connor and Zoe grew older, their theatre obsession lessened, but their love for the arts stayed: Zoe got into singing and guitar while Connor leaned towards dance and fine art. That didn’t mean that their acting wasn’t pretty good though. So good that when their relationship started to fall apart towards the beginning of sophomore year, their mother didn’t notice until the end of junior year. By then, it was too late.

 

But resentment could only last so long. After three straight nights of screaming and throwing things while their parents were away visiting some friend, they had to talk. It was when Connor had picked up a piece of paper out of a drawer, intending to crumple it up, and they both realized it was a handmade playbill that they had drawn together in second grade. They collapsed and talked into the next day about everything, and after then it was… okay. Their relationship would never be the way it used to, but Connor could try. They could both try.

 

After that talk, they were less hesitant around each other, especially when it came to theatre. They could discuss their mutual crush on Corey Cott, the funniest innuendos in _Arcadia_ , and the significance of overtures. They could also practice their monologues on each other and receive actual feedback. Of course, there was the occasional Bad Day, when the only remedy to the yelling was locking their doors and not coming out until daybreak, but they were doing okay. It was okay.

 

Which was why they could be honest with each other about their abilities. Connor was _good_ at acting. Zoe was as well, but in terms of musical theatre, Zoe was the ‘musical’ and Connor was the ‘theatre.’

 

Anyway, he saw her point. If he actually tried, there was a solid 90% chance of him getting casted amongst the astoundingly mediocre students that would be auditioning as well. Oh shit, she was talking. Better tune back in.

 

“...solid 90% chance you’ll get casted amongst the astoundingly mediocre students that’ll be auditioning with you.” Huh. Guess they were closer than he thought. “Three, you act like a child, hence, baby brother. And four, I will say whatever outdated shit I want to.” Noticing his indifferent face, she turned to leave. “You don’t have to. Obviously. Just think about it, okay? It could be fun.”

 

He just shrugged and closed his door, but the more he thought about auditioning, the more it seemed like a good idea. One of the biggest resentments he had towards Zoe was that she was always the “good” Murphy child while he was… the other one. If he got a main role and she didn’t, he would finally have a chance to be just Connor. Besides, it would get his parents off his ass about not engaging or whatever.

 

With his mind made up, he dusted off his desk and started filling out the form.

 

* * *

 

Mr. Iverson raised an eyebrow at the paper that Connor threw on his desk. He ignored the student stage manager -- Alissa? Adrianna? No, Alana -- waving cheerfully at him and faced the teacher.

 

“Mr. Murphy, finally handing in something? What a change.”

 

Connor, unphased by his teacher’s attitude, just shrugged.

 

“It’s even in on time, like you’re alway suggesting, Mitch.”

 

“Wha -- why -- how did you even find out my first name? And don’t call me that!”

 

“Sure thing, Mitch. Anyway, read the form.”

 

Iverson (wait, Mitch Iverson? Wasn’t that, like, a writer or something?) huffed and scanned the form. If his eyebrow raised any higher, it would be as high as Connor was last Thursday. Heh. Good one, Murphy.

 

“ _You’re_ auditioning for the play?”

 

Now, normally, teachers didn’t bother Connor. They could make as many remarks about his grades as they wanted. Frankly, he didn’t give a shit. But when they started getting more personal -- that’s when the anger came in. How the fuck was this teacher making assumptions about Connor when all he knew about him was his name?

 

“Well, _Monsieur Iverson_ , do you know of any other Connor Murphy who goes to this school? If you do, please let me know. I’m dying to meet him.”

 

“Very well, Murphy. Please begin the scene.”

 

Just to be a little shit, Connor stood up a bit taller and recited, “Hello, my name is Connor Murphy, I am 17 years old, I am a senior in high school, my favorite color is purple, and I will be auditioning for the role of Sebastian in Shakespeare’s _Twelfth Night_.”

 

Iverson looked like he was about to cry. There we go. Now he could start.

 

He took a deep breath, slipped into character, opened his mouth, and let his heart pour out with the prose.

 

By the time he was done, Iverson’s eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. Alana applauded enthusiastically.

 

“That was the best one yet!” She seemed to realize what she said and gasped loudly. “I mean, well, not exactly, um. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

 

He nodded and grinned at Iverson.

 

“Have a nice day, sir! See you seventh period! Probably not though.”

 

Iverson audibly sighed while Connor leapt off the stage and left the auditorium. Zoe definitely had a chance, but she was better at singing-acting, and he was sure there were other girls whose entire teenaged lives revolved around talking-acting. Surprisingly, he was excited to see the cast list that would be posted within the next few weeks.

 

* * *

 

Which brought him to now. He opened his eyes, hoping that he had read wrong and that it had just been a trick of the light.

 

Nope.

 

Printed right above his name was:

 

 _The role of_ Viola _will be played by_ Zoe Murphy.

 

Not only would he have to do several functional relationship (can you imagine?) scenes with his sister, he would be casted (it was a testament to his anger that he didn’t even stop to appreciate his accidental pun) into her shadow. Again. For the millionth time in his life, actually.

 

Frustrated, he stormed off, unintentionally pushing some blonde kid out of his way. The rushing in his ears and unexpected burning behind his eyes were so strong that he couldn’t hear the kid’s cry of pain or see his blue eyes fill with tears.

 


	2. rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan loves theatre. He doesn't love people pushing him, though. 
> 
> Unfortunately, that seems to be a trend in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you wonderful people wanted more so here it is! I'm only going to continue this if people are actually interested, and I'm really glad that some are.

Evan doesn’t curse. His mom does it quite a bit but he never really saw the point. Besides, he would always stutter over his curses anyway, and that just resulted in Jared laughing at him.

 

Despite this, Evan fucking loves theatre. So. Fucking. Much.

 

(Alright, that’s it. He’s exhausted his supply of swear words, that’s all you’re going to get.)

 

When he didn’t have any friends, the soundtracks were always there for him. Elphaba and Jack and Merrell (yes, he listened to Godspell even though he’s Jewish. Just because it’s about Jesus it doesn’t mean that the overarching themes and morals of the musical aren’t just as relevant -- you know what, this is a rant for another time) were his best friends when Jared was at camp or when he wasn’t being too… friendly. He was definitely more fond of musicals when he was younger, and he desperately wished he could be on a stage someday (just maybe without the crowds watching him?) as the Phantom, or Jean Valjean, or some breakthrough contemporary musical that he would be the star of.

 

Of course, he learned that his particular brand of “stage fright,” also known as diagnosed anxiety disorder, didn’t go well with audiences. So his dream of being the next Judy Garland was kind of… not applicable. But he found the next best thing: lighting.

 

As a true theatre nerd, he knew how to appreciate the crew and creative team for a show. How was the audience going to hear Audra McDonald’s heavenly voice at the perfect volume, or witness the magic of a Kelli O'Quick Change without the people behind the scenes? He was especially drawn to lighting because of the special balance it had between secrecy and… not. The lighting booth was high above the audience, the operator hidden from sight, but everyone was aware of their presence. In that booth, no one could see him, but he could see everyone. It gave him this sense of power and importance that, to be honest, he didn’t get often. He would never forget his first show: spring of sophomore year, as the cast of _Hairspray_ gestured towards the back of the auditorium, thunderous applause and cheers flooded the space and floated right into Evan’s booth. Nothing could have stopped the Tracy-Turnblad’s-hair sized grin from invading the entire bottom half of Evan’s face.

 

Needless to say, he loved his position in the school drama club. He supposed it was good (for lack of a better word) that Jared was in the club with him, also as a member of the crew: he used his self-proclaimed “technological genius” to mess around in the sound booth every rehearsal. One of his favorite pastimes was screaming stupid shi-- _stuff_ , stuff into the headsets to startle Evan and make him miss his cues. For example…

 

“Hey, Evan, look! School shooter -- that guy that pushed you -- is a lead! If you fuck up his entrances, I bet he’ll murder you.”

 

“Jared, that’s n-not nice,” Evan muttered, but swallowed a bit harder. He’d hit the floor so hard yesterday that tears had welled up in his eyes against his own will. He was now operating with a sore arm because of the bruise that formed on his left shoulder. Evan was just glad he hadn’t broken his arm, like he did shortly before junior year started. That production of _Guys and Dolls_ had almost gone very, very badly.

 

He couldn’t see the actor’s face very well, just his tall figure and long hair that was hanging wildly around his face.

 

“Neither is business, but you gotta do what you gotta do.” Before Evan could respond, Jared cut him off again. “By the way, you have to stop hiding in your booth now. They’re doing a table read for act one and they want everyone down here.”

 

“Jared, you’re hiding in your booth as well. And why do they even need us there? If the actors are projecting well enough, we can hear them from wherever. We don’t have to sit at the table for however many hours --”

 

“Team ethics, or something. I don’t know. Just stop complaining and get down here. If I have to, so do you.”

 

Evan removed his headset and groaned to himself before heading down the stairs for a little over an hour of hell. Well, at least he could annotate the script for color schemes and shifts along the way. He took a seat in between Jared and an ensemble member and organized his highlighters. Someone sat down across from him, so he spared a glance up and--

 

Shit.

 

Holy.

 

Fucking.

 

Shit.

 

Okay, he promises that was the last of the swear words. But there was no other adequate reaction to the angel sitting across from him.

 

Cheekbones that could shatter glass, loose brown waves falling around his face and framing it in the most perfect way possible -- there was one lock of hair hanging in front of him, so he tucked it behind his ear with a small frown, holy _god_ that was… wow. Okay. Evan got the feeling that he would be very distracted at rehearsals for the next three months. Quickly, he looked back down at his script after he heard Jared’s quiet cackle next to him. Thankfully, he was saved from Jared’s teasing by Alana calling everyone to attention.

 

“Hello everyone! It’s so great to see you all for this first rehearsal! Today, we’ll just be reading through act one, to get a feel of the script, and then we’ll take a break, and get through act two. So let’s first go around and say our names and positions. I’ll start. My name is Alana Beck, and I’m the assistant stage manager.”

 

Evan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Every single person here either auditioned and met her already, or was a part of the crew and had three meetings with her in the past two weeks.

 

“Zoe Murphy, Viola.”

 

“...Connor Murphy, Sebastian.”

 

Huh. Siblings playing the siblings. Was this Alana and Iverson’s idea of a joke?

 

Alas, a few minutes passed and it was his turn. “E-Evan Hansen. Uh, lighting.”

 

He glanced back down before he could see the mocking faces of the ensemble. _This guy can’t even say his name right, how’s he going to operate the lights correctly?_

 

Finally, all of the introductions were over and they dove into the script, with Alana reading stage instructions. Here we go.

 

_“If music be the food of love, play on…”_

 

* * *

 

 _“_ _What is decreed must be, and be this so.”_

 

Alana’s enthusiastic applause startled several crew members and even some act two characters out of their half-slumber.

 

“Great run-through, guys! We’ll take a ten minute break and then come back. Zoe, can you go on a snack run?”

 

The crowd dispersed and Evan chanced another look at Connor. Wow, was that a brown patch in his eye? It was kind of like Jared’s. It reminded him of a kaleidoscope, or a collection of gemstones emerging from the ground. They were… pretty. Really, really --

 

Oh, shit. (Forget the swear count. This is important.)

 

If he’d been staring at Connor’s eyes for the past… who knows how long, that meant that he’d been staring _into_ Connor’s eyes. Which meant --

 

“What?” The gemstone eyes gleamed coldly. Evan realized just how sharp jewels could be.

 

“I said, what? The _fuck_ are you staring at? Oh, surprised that the school shooter is doing anything except for getting high? Huh?  _Huh_?”

 

Evan’s eyes widened as he regained feeling in his body and he managed to weakly whisper, “N-n-no, I d-didn’t, I didn’t say, I-I wasn’t --”

 

An ugly snarl took over Connor’s face and those colorful, shifting eyes narrowed to slits.

 

“Fuck you.” And Evan was hitting the floor with a dull thud, sharp pain shooting through his already bruised shoulder. Great. Two pushes within the week. That had to be a new record. And from the same person. Come to think of it, that was pretty impressive, y’know, who else could say that--

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Suddenly Evan realized that he’d just been lying on the ground, not even moving or making an effort to. Embarrassed, he shot up off the floor, wincing at the pain shooting through his left arm, and found himself less than a foot away from the concerned face of Zoe Murphy.

 

This day was just getting better and better. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of winging the characterization (if you couldn't tell), so if anything seems off, or if I'm doing okay, please let me know. Also, if you're familiar with high school theatre (or at least more familiar with it than me) and anything seems like BS so far, definitely definitely tell me. Thanks for reading!


	3. wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan makes a new (but not really) friend. Or something like that, anyway.

It seemed that Zoe was just as pretty, if not more, as she was when Evan had a crush on her.

 

Allow him to explain.

 

Freshman through sophomore year, he was completely and utterly infatuated with her. To him, he was everything he ever wished for: charming, kind, attractive, and completely unattainable. His only interaction with her was in shows, when the cast had to acknowledge him at the end. Other than that, they didn’t speak at all, and they really didn’t have reason to, but he still maintained hope. However, time went on, and one day, Jared casually said at lunch, “Dude, what if she’s, like, completely different? Like, you think she’s cool and whatever but maybe she’s super bitchy and shit. That would be funny. Do frogs have nipples?”

 

Well. That certainly put things into perspective.

 

(Not the nipple thing, though. Actually, it kind of did, but that's off topic.)

 

Evan realized that she wasn’t just what he wanted, but what he wanted to be. She was an idol of sorts, someone to admire and strive for more than anything. Surprisingly (to himself), he got over her after a bit and was content with wishing he could be as adored as she was.

 

Anyway, back to the present.

 

“Yeah, sorry about my brother. He’s… like that sometimes.” She looked away for a moment.

 

Evan just shrugged, which caused his left shoulder to ache a bit. “No, it’s fine. I’m, uh, kinda used to it.”

 

Zoe frowned. “Well, you shouldn’t be. Wanna go on a snack run with me? I could use an extra set of arms to carry all the Corn Nuts and Twix.”

 

Well, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. “S-Sure.”

 

She smiled and he followed her out of the auditorium. Unfortunately, Jared noticed them walking out together and whistled loudly from the stage. “Damn, Hansen, didn’t know you had it in you! Get some!”

 

He was planning on silently power walking the rest of the way out of the auditorium with a burning face, when Zoe opened her mouth and yelled back, “I’m just as gay as you are, Jared! The only difference is that Evan here isn’t the only person I talk to!”

 

Oh, yeah. That too. The whole gay thing kind of eliminated any chances he had with her, anyway.

 

Evan’s eyes widened in shock as he realized what Zoe said, but he sighed in relief at the sound of Jared’s cackling echoing off the walls. Maybe they were closer than he thought.

 

They made their way down the hall to the vending machine in what should have been awkward silence, but it was strangely comfortable considering that Evan and Zoe had never really spoken to each other. As they got closer, Zoe broke the silence.

 

“So, you’re lighting, huh?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve, uh, been doing it for about two years now. You were, um, really good, great, i-in _Guys and Dolls_ , that was, uh, yeah. Y-You were great.”

 

“Aw, thanks! You were, too! You know, before you joined, the lighting guy would skip rehearsals because he thought they weren’t important, so when we did _The Crucible_ , everyone entered in darkness. I mean, I guess it lended to the roles, but still. I’m glad we have a really good lighting operator on set.” Evan laughed quietly with Zoe as they walked. She was really easy to talk to, for some reason, especially now that he wasn’t creepily obsessed with her.

 

“Yeah, uh, thanks, I mean usually people who are bad at their jobs don’t care and I’m, uh, not bragging or anything but I really like theatre -- I always wanted to do it when I was younger, you know -- so I guess that kinda helps out with my job? I mean I care about what’s happening a lot so it’s, uh, really i-important to me that I do e-everything right and am I rambling? Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to, it’s just a thing that happens, sorry --”

 

Zoe shook her head and held out her hands to calm him. “No, it’s fine. You apologize a lot.” He shrugged nervously and opened his mouth, but she interrupted him before he could speak.

 

“You want to do it again, don’t you?” He nodded.

 

“Yes, very much so.”

 

“Well, instead of apologizing, we can sing! Let’s see if you were actually paying attention in rehearsal last winter.” She cleared her throat and began to sing. " _You promise me this, you promise me that, you promise me anything under the sun! Then you give me a kiss and you're grabbing your hat and you're off to the races again! When I think of the tiiiiiiiime gone by…_ ”

 

Unable to resist the temptation, Evan mumbled, “Adelaide, Adelaide,” under his breath.

 

Zoe looked in his direction. “ _And I think of the waaaaaaay I tried…_ ”

 

Evan uttered a quiet but affronted “Adelaide!” and Zoe grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

 

“ _I could honestly die_ … come on, Nathan, it’s your verse.”

 

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that it was just Zoe and no one else. “Uh, _c-call a lawyer and sue me, sue me. What can y-you do me, I l-l-love you. Give a holler and hate me, hate me. G-go ahead, hate me! I-I love you_.” Zoe cheered and moved on to her verse.

 

After a couple moments, they’d reached the climax of the song. “ _When you wind up in jail, don't come to me to bail you…_ ” They shared a look and grinned before belting the last note together: _“Ouuuuuuuuuuuut!_ ”  

 

At that very moment, Zoe’s phone chimed, causing them both to giggle a bit hysterically. Evan felt amazing. He’d never had anyone to obnoxiously sing his favorite show tunes with that didn’t make him feel inadequate or nervous about impressing them. Zoe rolled her eyes at her screen.

 

“Alana says that people are getting antsy for their snacks. Guess we’d better actually do what we were sent here to do.” He giggled a bit and watched as she fed her money into the machine while turning to talk to him. 

 

“Dude, you’re amazing! No wonder you always wanted to do theatre; you’re hella talented. Have you ever considering auditioning for something?”

 

He chuckled a bit and shrugged. “Eh, n-not really, since I have, uh, really bad performance anxiety, or just anxiety in general, heh, so the stage and audience doesn’t really go well for me.”

 

Zoe nodded understandingly and passed him a handful of Snickers. “Yeah, I get it. And you’re really good at your current job. But think about it. I might have heard that we’re doing Les Mis in the spring and we could really use a Valjean who has the range.” She readjusted the pile of bags in her arms and started walking back.

 

“Anyway, did you notice when Finn and I had to improvise a bunch of choreo that one time because both of us completely blanked at the same time? Oh, it was insane…”

 

As they walked back to the auditorium with Zoe recounting her stage horror stories, Evan smiled to himself, shoulder-ache long forgotten.

 

Maybe this year wouldn’t be too bad after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. I'm sorry that this update took so long; school started and my schoolwork is really my top priority right now and I don't want to post half-assed chapters for the sake of posting them. You people deserve better, or whatever quality you want to call this. Above bad? Anyway, thanks for reading!
> 
> p.s i wholeheartedly believe that zoe would say 'hella' wayyy too much and completely unironically too


	4. ANNOUNCEMENT

Hi all!

 

You probably figured this out already (if you haven't forgotten about this fic for a while now), but updates will be extremely rare and patchy. Schoolwork is hitting me really hard and I also have lost some interest/focus in DEH momentarily. It's actually come back pretty recently, so hey, there's hope. But the last thing I want to do it put out half-assed stuff for you lovely people, so that's why I just wanted to make this clear.

 

All I can say is thank you and stay tuned! 

 

(oh jeez I sound so pretentious and uppity please know that I don't think of myself as some sort of ##content creator, I just know that people liked this fic so that's all. ok bye now thanks again to everyone who left comments and kudos you made all of my days!)  

 


	5. New Account!

Hi everyone!

Unfortunately, this is not a new chapter (although that's in the works!). This is just an announcement that I'm switching to a new account: angeolras! I've been using my friend's and I finally got the ao3 confirmation email. I'm going to be reuploading this fic on the new account, but I'll leave this one where it is so that people can check the tags and stuff.

I'll leave a comment with the new account on this chapter so that you can get there more easily.

Thanks for sticking around and see you on the new account!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you all want more of this mess. I have more chapters planned, but I'll only post them if people are interested. Like I said before, I'm not exactly experienced in high school theatre experiences (lol) so if there's anything I should definitely include, let me know as well. Anyway, thanks for reading!


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